Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Ethan Hart, only got his chance because I was at my lowest.

So he was more afraid of losing me than anybody.

For three years, we lived in two different countries, and Ethan Hart made me check in about everything and keep my location shared with him twenty-four hours a day.

Once, I ran a fever and went dark for a few hours, and he flew 4,959 miles that same night to find me and threw out my ex-husband, who had only come by to bring me medicine.

I told him he was out of his mind.

He only lowered his head and held me tighter.

"Olivia, don't ever let me lose track of you.

"And don't let anybody else get his hooks in you. I know exactly what's going on in his head."

I stopped fighting him.

My ex-husband drank and cheated, and there was a time I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

Ethan was afraid something would happen to me again, and he was afraid someone would take me the same way he once had.

In three years, he came looking for me ninety-nine times.

The hundredth time, I quietly switched off my location and flew out to see him with a surprise I had put together ahead of time.

I never expected to see Ethan the second I walked out of the airport.

My heart skipped a beat.

I was about to go to him when someone rushed past me and threw herself into his arms.

"Ethan!"

Ethan didn't push her away. He took her luggage without a second thought and hung the cardigan she had slipped off over his arm.

Then he bent his head and kissed her forehead.

The look on his face was every bit as tender as it had been each time he kissed me over the last three years.

I froze where I stood.

I didn't move until the woman slid into the passenger seat as easily as if it were hers.

The last digits on his license plate were still my birthday.

I stared at their backs and shouted before I could stop myself.

"Ethan Hart!"

His hand froze on the car door.

*****

The second his name left my mouth, I had a thousand questions for him, but when Ethan turned around, I was suddenly too afraid to hear the answers.

My body moved before my mind did, and I slipped behind a pillar.

His shadow crept closer across the floor, two steps away, then one.

Then the woman called out to him, her voice warm and intimate. "Ethan, I just got back from a consult at another hospital, and I'm worn out."

Ethan stopped mid-step. He barely hesitated before he turned and went back to her. "There's a seat massager in the back for you. Get some rest. We'll be home soon."

Through the gap beside the pillar, I watched him lean in and set the massager for her. Before he got in, he seemed to glance my way one more time.

In the end, he shut the door, and the Maybach disappeared into traffic.

I unclenched my fists and looked down into my bag. My surprise was still inside, a printout of my pregnancy test results. I had wanted to tell Ethan in person.

I fumbled for my phone. The message he had sent before I boarded was still on the screen.

Ethan: [I've got a difficult patient the next few days, so I might not have much time for you.]

I pulled up his hospital's website, and it didn't take long to find her. Her name was Claire Evans.

She was a cardiac surgeon in the same department. Her résumé looked great, and her photo looked better. Their names sat side by side on the department page, and the sight of them stung so much that I had to look away.

A few seconds later, I searched her name anyway, and a post on social media came up.

[Does nobody else ship Dr. Evans and Dr. Hart? They're both ice cold with everyone, and then they see each other and smile.]

[They've been together forever, right? I saw them on a date last week. Looked like they were celebrating Valentine's Day.]

My fingers jerked against the screen. Ethan had never missed one of our holidays, not once until that year, when he told me the hospital had him on two major surgeries and he couldn't get away.

All he did was mail me the watch I had been hinting about for months, well before the day. Something heavy pressed down on my chest until it hurt to breathe, but I kept scrolling.

One person had seen Ethan give Claire an armful of sunflowers. Another joked about how, whenever Claire worked a night shift, Ethan showed up the next morning with a change of clothes and a thermos of fresh coffee for her.

[That's not coworkers. That's a married couple.]

That was as far as I got. I closed the page in a panic and booked the next flight home.

Fourteen hours later, I dragged myself through my front door, and my eyes landed on the medicine box by the entryway.

Sleeping pills, antidepressants, and cold medicine were sorted into their own sections. Ethan had labeled every box with its expiration date, and he had left a note on the lid.

Ethan: [You're the worst at looking after yourself. Take your meds even when I'm not there.]

I tore my eyes away, and the window was full of bright yellow. At some point, the sunflowers on the balcony had bloomed. Ethan had carried those in too, one pot at a time.

When he first brought them, I couldn't sleep at night, and I kept the curtains shut all day. But Ethan took my hand, led me out into the sunlight, and pointed at the sunflowers.

His palm was warm against mine. "Olivia, I want you to turn toward the light, the way they do. Don't give up on the whole world because of one man. At least you can still trust me."

I believed him, and for a while I thought the sunflowers were mine alone.

Something slid down my cheeks and hit the floor, drop after drop. I looked down and couldn't see a thing through the blur, and I was shaking all over and couldn't stop.

The shaking didn't stop until I yanked the curtains shut and the sunflowers vanished into the dark. Then I curled up in bed and slowly pulled the covers over my head.

I lost track of how long I lay there before someone started pounding on the door.

I dragged myself over and opened it, and then I stopped cold. Ethan was standing in the hallway, rumpled from the long trip.